


All the Stars

by jewboykahl



Category: South Park
Genre: ? - Freeform, Aged-Up Character(s), Attempt at Humor, Awkward Flirting, Canon Compliant, Field Trip, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M, More Fluff, More Like Acquaintances To Lovers, Museums, One Shot, Post-Canon, trigger warning: kyle has brown eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: When paired up for an assignment to go along with their class trip to the museum, Kyle and Craig find that they have more in common than they think; and one of those things may be a crush on one another.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Craig Tucker, Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	All the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelotusflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelotusflower/gifts).



> soooo im sorry if this is trash but THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY QUEEN BABY LOTUS for encouraging me to write not only cryle, but more main 4 because i missed my big dumb babies   
> thank u!!!

“I swear to God, she did this on purpose.” Kyle grumbles out of context as he and Stan settle into a slot on the bus, Kenny and Cartman in tow, snorting about some perverted comment made about the young, female bus driver.

Stan twists his perspective from the pair beside him to Kyle, eyebrow raised, “Are you still bitching about getting partnered up with Craig?”

“I’m not _bitching_ ,” Kyle snaps back, brown eyes becoming narrow with annoyance. “I just know it was on purpose. Mrs. Larson is always trying to get me to tutor people.”

His dark-haired friend shrugs, “Maybe you should tutor people.”

Kyle scoffs, “Yeah, _probably_ , but not for free and on my own time.”

Stifling an eye roll, Stan points to the other two members of their small, cohesive friend group, “If those idiots got put together and I ended up with Clyde, I really don’t think she put a lot of thought into who she was pairing up.”

Kyle considers this as he readjusts the ball cap atop his wild, auburn curls. Kenny and Cartman have reverted directly back to bickering seconds after their amicable exchange, nudging at one another for more room on the sticky vinyl bus seat. Stan is already granting him a pointed look when he flicks his stare back, “Whatever. I just know Craig is failing that class and _she_ knows I’m going to do all the work.”

“Maybe he’ll surprise you. We’re going through Space Odyssey—he likes space, right?”

Kyle shrugs, “I mean, I guess he used to, but I don’t know what he’s into now.”

Stan gestures diplomatically. “Give the guy a chance. He may be an asshole, but he did spend an entire summer dressed like an astronaut. And just continue to count yourself lucky for definitely getting a better partner than all three of us.”

As if on cue, Kenny rears his head across the narrow aisle that separates them and smirks, “You ready to finally solve some of that sexual tension, Ky?”

The redhead glowers back. “What are you taking about?”

“Y’know, you and Tucker,” Kenny waggles his eyebrows, “I saw you two in English arguing about symbolism. Never knew literature would get me going, but I guess the cuck in me has a mind of its own.”

“Gross, Kenny! Jesus fuck,” Cartman exclaims, “Do you ever filter yourself?”

Kenny whirls back around, expression disappearing from Kyle’s point of voice, but definitely either that lopsided smile or a scrunched nose. “Look who the hell is talkin’!”

“Okay, I don’t know what the fuck my dumbass boyfriend is talking about, but just… I don’t know, stop worrying about it. It’s one morning and then free pizza.” Stan assures him with a light pat on the knee.

“It’s not free, out parents just already paid for it.” Kyle argues, propping an elbow against the jutted-out window seal and holding his chin.

Stan chuckles at Kyle’s dedication to his negative stance on the matter. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Unconvinced that the day will go by without himself taking charge of completing their assigned worksheet for the fieldtrip, Kyle lets his mind drift off to that argument Kenny was referring to in English class—which essentially consisted of Craig knowing that Kyle was correct but playing Devil’s advocate to purposefully irritate him. These were the only kinds of interactions he had with his partner for this outing; a trip to Denver’s nature and science museum with Craig intentionally spouting out incorrect facts while Kyle is the only one offering effort toward completing their assignment does not sound appealing, even if he _does_ somewhat enjoy the rush of competition.

_

“Alright, class, listen up for a moment,” Their teacher spouts, gesturing that the group of teenagers settle down, “As you know, you may all split off to complete the packet I have given you in any order you want so we aren’t all gathered at the same exhibit. While you all are old enough to navigate a museum on your own, you must _act_ like you are—no running around, fooling around, being loud or obnoxious. We are guests her just like everyone else, so you will treat the museum with the same respect as you do the school.”—a chorus of sniggers elicits an eyeroll from the woman—“Okay, _more_ respect. You’re free to go but be sure you are back in this spot by one o’clock!”

Kenny and Cartman were the first to dash off together, both incorrectly convinced they will be done faster if they work on the packet back to front. Stan and Kyle exchange sighs as the flitter off to find the other pair of best friends that they will be separating.

“What’s good, Stan the Man?!” Clyde greets enthusiastically when he detects their arrival. Stan returns the grin and the one-handed bro-hug.

“Not this packet, but let’s get ‘er done.” Stan chuckles.

Far too soon, Kyle is left alone with Craig Tucker’s listless gaze.

Each time they are stood up beside one another, Kyle forgets how tall he is. Being six-foot himself, it’s always a shock to peer up a good three inches to meet Craig’s bored, hazel stare. Today he’s wearing a grey beanie with _Panic! at the Disco_ embroidered in cursive across the front, strands of his straight, almost-black hair spilling out across his forehead. His plain, black hoodie is coupled with a white and grey windbreaker, his long legs adorned with black skinny jeans that appear tragically baggy for his gangly frame. Kyle suddenly feels extremely formal in his ribbed cashmere sweater, black slacks, and ankle boots.

“Morning, Red.” Craig greets in his usual monotone.

Kyle nods in acknowledgement at the sentiment and cuts to the chase, “I’ve skimmed through all of this and it looks like we only really need to focus on the Prehistoric Journey, Space Odyssey, and Gems & Minerals section, which is kinda annoying since we haven’t gone over geology since the beginning of the year… so, I think we should start there, since that’ll definitely take us the longest. Evolution and shit is pretty fresh in my mind…”

“That’s fine,” Craig picks up where Kyle trailed off. “I’m about halfway through the Space Odyssey section.”

Kyle whips his head around to shoot Craig a disbelieving glare. “What?”

Craig peers back with one dark eyebrow raised. “What? I have been to that exhibit a couple times.”

With that, Craig offers up the evidence, handing over the stapled collection of worksheets identical to the one he had received. Kyle skips to the center of the packet, scrutinizing what looked like a majority of the questions from the astronomy section answered in full sentences—one even with an _equation_. The redhead drops his jaw. “How the hell did you remember all of this?”

Craig shrugs, far too nonchalant for someone who had finished a large portion of their work for the day off the top of his head. “I like space.”

Kyle shook his head, a sudden bout of chuckles coming on as he flops back to the first page and hands it back to Craig. Perhaps Stan had a point. He is surprised by him.

“I don’t suppose you’d be able to have a stroke of unmitigated genius and finish the Prehistoric section, too.” Kyle jests as they begin to amble toward the first exhibition hall together.

“Nope,” Craig states, popping the ‘p’. He leans over Kyle’s shoulder to read the first question with him, an action that causes the redhead to tense for some reason. He continues, “Actually, I am pretty sure number one is fourteen billion years.”

Kyle shoots him a glare, “You’re kidding me. How do you know _that_?”

Craig smirks, “ _The Big Bang Theory_ theme song.”

“What?”

“You know,” Craig bobs his head, singing softly and putting emphasis on the lines that lead him to his conclusion, “ _The whole universe was in a hot, dense, state, then nearly_ fourteen million year ago expansion started, _wait_ ,”

The redhead pauses, keeping his stare connected to Craig’s expectant one before barking a laugh, “Oh, so you’re not actually that smart, you’re just a fucking nerd.”

“Same thing.” Craig teases, tracing behind Kyle to make space for fellow patrons passing by.

The pair manages to go through the entire first exhibit using only forty-five minutes of their allotted four-hour time frame. It is surprisingly enjoyable to consider the scientific information, poke fun at the slow plaque readers, and take turns scrawling down answers with Craig. For one of them, he used Craig’s back as a hard surface to write on. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the other boy’s slightly slouched shoulders and the tuffs of dark hair escaping the back of his beanie.

They make their way to the Space Odyssey section, and Craig has a skip in his step that Kyle does not miss. He simpers at him, “Excited?”

Craig grants him and eye roll before stowing his gaze ahead again. “Shut up.”

It takes a moment for Kyle’s eyes to adjust to the dimmed lighting on entering the exhibition hall. The room, designed to mirror the darkness and vastness of outer space, is lined with glossy black tiles alone the ceiling and alternating onyx and heather grey checks on the carpet. Craig’s eyes reflect the emission of laser-blue light from the first several exhibits that introduce the topic with long paragraphs of information.

Kyle points a finger at the closet one, “Is this where the answers the first three are from?”

“Yep,” Craig says. “When NASA was formed and the Space Race and all that shit.”

“Did you already know that before even coming here?” Craig nods in confirmation. Kyle’s lips twist into an impressed grin. “Why don’t you walk me through it, then?”

“What, you don’t think I actually know what I’m talking about?” Craig fires back challengingly, “Trust me, if I was going to pretend to be knowledgeable on a subject to impress people, it wouldn’t be astronomy.”

“That isn’t what I meant. I just genuinely want to hear how much you know,” Kyle amends. He feels a lump start in his throat when their eyes connect again. Craig’s are a shade darker out form beneath the fluorescent lights coaxing out the deep green quality. Kyle cannot decide which color is more endearing. “I’m… interested.”

“Okay.” Craig accepts, grins. It is the first time Kyle notices his dimples—so, perhaps the first time he has ever coaxed a genuine smile from the other boy.

With that, Kyle has a tour guide. Each exhibit they weave in and out of, Craig is able to at least put it into context of him, but often goes on for a solid minute relaying information without even glancing at the placards. He even attracts a small audience when explaining the ULA, “Their headquarters are actually here in Colorado.”

Kyle nods his head as he scrutinizes the missiles in a glass display case before them. “And that’s where the Delta rockets come from?”

Craig nods, “Yeah, but only the Delta IV’s are in use still today.”

“Oh, yeah! Those big ass ones?”

“Yeah, the big ass ones,” Craig chortles.

Kyle chuckles back, “I watched the launch of the NROL-44. Those Heavys look so retro compared to Starship.”

Craig essentially stops in his tracks, apparently caught off guard by Kyle’s knowledge. Immense pride in pulling the expression from the other boy fills his chest as Craig regains his bearings in the conversation. “Deltas are way cooler. Starship looks like a giant cock.”

Kyle laughs aloud and shrugs, “That’s true, but at least it’s more eco-friendly and our government didn’t pay for it.”

“Honestly, the sort of break even in terms of eco-friendly if you take in the manufacturing. Plus, the Raptor engines use more energy to thrust, so, less toxic chemicals. The solid rocket boosters are debatably worse.”

“Don’t Delta IV Heavy just use three common booster cores, not solids?” Kyle questions after a short stint of silence to jot down an answer to a question.

Craig thinks on this for a moment, takes the packet for his turn. “Oh, that’s right. I would still say it evens out. Besides, rockets are the least of our pollutions concerns.” Kyle sniggers in agreement as he watches Craig copy some information down, resting crouching down to use a display podium. He comments, “I didn’t know you were into space.”

Kyle responds slowly, quite distracted by Craig’s profile. He never before noticed the stubble that graces the other boy’s face. He figures he is merely jealous due to the fact that he barely spouts a patchy mustache once a month, but the bubble in his chest does not feel like envy. “I only really know about rockets, honestly. The celestial objects aspect isn’t as easy to understand for me.”

“Dude, that’s the coolest part.” Craig assures him. It feels like he is about to say something else, so Kyle allows the conversation to lull, but he never does, and they fall back into a quiet. The silence seems significantly less awkward than it should, however; Kyle thinks that is just kind of _nice_ to wander around, view various displays and inadvertently brush shoulders.

“Oh, cool,” Craig exclaims (at least, Kyle thinks he is exclaiming, though his voice barely raises). He points a finger over to something to Kyle’s right. “They finally opened the VR Transporter exhibit.”

Kyle takes a glance at the sign poster sign that reads “Space Odyssey: VR Transporter”. Craig explains, “They have a virtual moonwalk and tour of Apollo 11.”

“Oh, sweet.” Kyle nods, flipping to the final section of their packet, having completed the astronomy section.

“Let’s do it.”

The redhead pins him with a stare, trying to discern whether or not he is being serious. He retorts. “Um, no? That’s definitely not a part of the assignment.”

Craig shrugs, “So? We are almost done with it and we still have over two hours. That’s plenty of time.”

“Hell no, dude, I’m not getting in trouble so you can look at some stars!” Kyle snaps back, holding up their stack of papers. “We haven’t answered a single question on this side of the worksheet, and if we don’t finish it, we’re going to have to explain _why_. Plus, I think it costs extra.”

“It doesn’t, and if you don’t want to, whatever, I’ll do it by myself.” Craig asserts before turning and taking strides toward the virtual reality exhibit.

Kyle’s eyes widen. There were plenty of times where Craig Tucker’s blithe disregard for rules or the status quo had shocked, amazed, or impressed him, but is has been a while. He cannot comprehend his ability to merely walk away from conflicts or peculiar situations, or his lack of worry about how others pay perceive (or punish) him for doing as he wishes. He sputters, “Dude! You can’t just—why are you doing this?!”

“Because,” Craig pivots back around to face him, “It’s not that big of a deal. It isn’t like Mrs. Larson is breathing down our necks. I’m sure she’s following your dumbass friends around to make sure they don’t break some priceless artifact.”

Kyle rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, I’m not going with you.”

“I already said I don’t care, Red.” Craig quips and continues to trace his way to the recently launched demonstration.

Kyle’s reply falls to a barely audibly squeak before he clamps his jaw shut and lets his arms fall to his side. He trudges over to the exhibition and notes Craig pausing before it, and the velvet rope set up to deny entry. “So, it’s not open?”

“It is. We just have to wait for the next show time.”

“Are you kidding me?! We’re already going to be running behind, we can’t just wait around for the stupid show to be over!”

Craig looks down at him blankly. “Are you seriously that impatient or are you just stupid?”

“What?!”

Instead of explaining, Craig points upward. Kyle’s gaze finds a small screen that reads “Next Show Time: 4 Minutes”. He starts to say something, but his clever reply is flushed out by Craig’s stupid, goofy laugh, leaving him with only, “Fuck off.”

“I love how you tell people to _fuck off_ whenever they prove you wrong,” Craig tells him, averting his attention ahead again. “That must be why you are always screaming it at Eric.”

“I scream it at Cartman because he’s a piece of shit!” Kyle fires back, his hands becoming fists at his side.

“I don’t know. I think it’s because he’s the secret genius of the gang.”

Kyle rolls his eyes and tries to diffuse his own tension by folding his arms over his chest. “You do that, too, you know. Tell people to _shut up_ or _fuck off_ when you know you’re wrong.”—he smiles smarmily up at Craig—”I’m getting pretty used to hearing it.”

Craig perks his head again, this time making pointed eye contact. The color has shifted again, now a tantalizing combination of the earthy tones they reflect. Suddenly, Kyle’s knees are less reliable. Craig smirks, “Fuck off.”

Kyle feels a strange disappointment when the contact is lost for the other boy to lift his eyes to the screen. With only two minutes left and Kyle still pouting beside him, the feeling victory washes over him, “So, you’re doing the VR with me?”

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” The redhead snaps back.

Craig shrugs, “You could just go fill out that last section while I do it. That’s probably how you thought today was going to go anyway.”

Narrows eyes land of Craig, “What do you mean?”

“I’m sure you assumed you would have to fill this whole thing out by yourself.” Craig extrapolates.

Kyle curses the heat that has been slowly rising across his face during this entire interaction. He feels like he is _losing_ —and he does not like that. He grants himself a moment to think of how he can grasp some power back, and shoots back, “So, that’s why you filled out part of it early? To impress me?”

Craig shakes his head, “Impress is a strong word. More like _tame_ you.”

“I though you _liked_ me un-tame, telling people to _fuck off_.” Kyle poses it like a question, but it truly is not one. He accomplishes his goal—the smallest semblance of defeat crosses Craig’s perpetually stoic expression.

“Shut up.”

“Ah, switching it up,” Kyle quips as they both sidestep for their fellow patrons to exit the virtual reality show room. “Refreshing.”

“Whatever, you’re the one doing this with me.” Craig shrugs, striding forward when they are ushered in.

Kyle fights against his logic and hesitation to pass through the opening between two black curtains into the space. There is a row of cinema-style leather chairs with padded handlebars before each one. A VR headset rests in each seat. The small space is overlooked by a long, galaxy-colored banner reading “Space Odyssey” in bold letters.

The pair are directed to the far two seats, Craig filing in first. Kyle regrets everything as he picks up the headset to sit down. After the well-dressed employee informs them that the twenty-minute experience will begin in five minutes, as they wait for any other patrons that may want to view.

Kyle’s polite grin for the museum worker swiftly contorts to an annoyed expression for Craig. “We are officially wasting a full half-hour on this shit.”

“For the love of Christ,” Craig groans at him starting up again, “if you are so pressed about it, you have five minutes to leave.”

“I’m _pressed_ because I want to finish this damn packet and we’ll only have an hour and a half to get the rest done.” Kyle reminds him.

“Okay, then go get some of the Gems & Minerals section done. You owe me anyways since I filled out the astronomy section.” Craig reasons, fiddling with the headset.

Kyle scoffs, “That’s different, you’ve been here before. And you’re a space geek, so that was probably, like, fun for you.”

“And apparently constantly nagging me if fun for you. Seriously, do you ever relax?”

“That’s ridiculous, I relax all the time. Just because I’m not a pothead like you and Kenny doesn’t mean I don’t know how to relax.” Kyle accuses, training his stare straight ahead. He thinks he must look robotic, but a strange feeling is invading his knees and the base of his stomach every time he looks Craig in the eyes. He has never noticed this feeling before; although, it had been several years that he had any reason to consistently stare directing into those enticing hazels.

Craig titters, “I smoke, like, once a month, dude. McCormick is the one who smells like a Fleetwood Mac concert every morning.”

Kyle cannot help but let out a laugh at this. He nods his head and inadvertently peers over at Craig to find pleased smile across his lips. “Valid point.”

“I know.” Craig quips before turning his attention back to the attendant who traces in front of them to announce that their showing will begin despite being at only half capacity.

Kyle can only focus how Craig got the last word through the entire spiel. He nearly misses the instructions of how to navigate the headset.

As the pair set off on an artificial journey consisting of two space-themed VR games, Kyle quickly becomes pleasantly surprised at the crisp images that submerged him to a different plane of existence. They are on Mars, whirling beside a rover bot, surrounded by red rocks and rust. The sky is a similar burnt orange color, and a bright, full moon rests above the horizon. Kyle almost forgets he is a real person, stuck in a snowy, mile-high state instead of the inviting warmth of the extraterrestrial terrain—until he feels a bicep and forearm press flush against him.

Heart slamming against his ribcage, he instinctually turns his head to the left, then feels stupid for even trying to see Craig with the fake materialization capturing even his peripheral vision. He cannot fathom why the small, more than likely accidental gesture feels like he is on fire, burning down to the bone on Mars surface. He pleads to God for the blush color to drain from his cheeks by the time the display is over; however, he finds himself unable to draw away from Craig’s touch, which would effectively solve the problem. Instead, he maintains the contact and wishes that they were both wearing short sleeves.

Kyle hats how disappointed he feels when Craig shifts away after a long, distracting stretch of being pressed up against him. He wishes this were a normal movie and he could see where the hell the other boy’s limbs lay in order to reestablish the contact. He bites down on his lip and experimentally scoots his foot to the left, searching for Craig’s worn-out white Converse. His stomach flutters when he feels a leg bumping against his own instead. Reveling in even the most limit form of physical connection with Craig makes him suddenly horrified of what this means for him.

Not soon enough, but simultaneously far too soon, their virtual journey draws to a close and they remove their VR goggles in unison. Kyle cannot decide if he desperately wants to scrutinize the look on Craig’s face or ignore him forever. His wandering brown gaze makes the decision for him, a pang of disappointment ringing through his head when Craig appears completely unbothered.

Kyle had not expected this VR experience to be such a roller coaster of emotions.

He begins to feel slightly annoyed by the apathy displayed by Craig as they exit the exhibition together and he states, “That was super cool, but I still prefer the planetarium.”

“You’re pronouncing it wrong,” Kyle tells him, reopening their packet. “ _Plana-air-ium_.”

Craig chuckles at the reference to a ridiculous tour-guide that had on a class trip to South Park’s planetarium in elementary school. They stroll side by side to the following section of the museum to complete their final portion of the assignment. Kyle continues to feel slighted at the lack of acknowledgement of their limbs practically tangling during the VR experience.

Craig quickly makes up for this bout of disappointment by continuing to accidentally-on-purpose brush up against him. Their shoulders touch, their arms brush, and each time, Kyle feels a flutter in his chest. He obsesses over whether or not Craig feels the same. It is impossible to tell from the stoicism and the casual conversation he maintains.

“Kyle!” A familiar voice beckons from behind him. He turns to meet Kenny’s chaotic stare and the heavy breathing of both himself and Cartman, who is trailing a bit farther behind. “Thank fuck, can you please help me with some of these answers?”

Kyle narrows his eyes, “Define some.”

Kenny grants him a lopsided smirk, hands him their version of the packet with only a fraction of the answers completed (several of them reading _Couldn’t find it_ ). Kyle releases a deep exhale and before he can begin his lecture, Kenny offers, “If you help me no questions asked I will buy you coffee every morning for the next month.”

Kyle cocks an eyebrow, “You know you can’t afford that.”

“First of all, rude,” the blond gestures back to Cartman, “Second of all, I’ll just steal money from him.”

“Ay! You don’t know where my money is, poor boy!” Their heavy-set friend snaps.

“I know you hallowed out Clyde Frog, idiot.” Kenny quips back with a wink, then moves his stare back to Kyle. “Just—please. Larson is going to kill me and flirting with her doesn’t work anymore.”

“Oh, what a surprise. Another person doesn’t think you’re _adorable_.” Craig deadpans, scribbling one of the final answers for their own assignment.

Kenny smirks, “Jealous, Tucker?”

Kyle relishes in the blank stare Kenny receives from Craig. In that moment, it gives him a strange, perhaps morbid sense of comfort to know that Craig has never been one to fall for Kenny’s charms. Clearly his best friend had, as they are dating, and an onslaught of females throughout middle school and the early stages of being upperclassmen—he even had a brief explosion of chemistry with _Tweek_ when he and Craig finally ended their strange, manufactured relationship the summer before freshmen year. He stifled a smile at the thought and sighed, “Alright, you idiots, let’s just do this quickly.”

“Tits.” Cartman exclaims, his triumph much tamer than the wet kiss on the cheek Kyle fails to dodge from Kenny.

“Sick, dude! Stop doing this! I don’t even know how you reach me from all the way down there.” Kyle groans, swiping away the residual saliva.

“I’ve gotten a lot better at jumping since dating Stan. Lotsa practice crouching in the janitor’s closet, if ya know what I mean.”

“Goddamn it, I hate poor people. You know, you’d have less STD’s if you learned how to keep it in your pants.” Cartman asserts as Kyle turns the stapled stack of work sheets to the front page.

Kenny replies, “At least someone wants me to take it outta my pants, lard boy.”

“Fuck you, Kenny, I kick you in the nuts—”

“Both of your shut the fuck up or I’m not helping.” Kyle threatens, and Craig is thoroughly impressed at the speed in which they clamp their mouths shut.

He snorts, “You have them well-trained.”

“No, I don’t, that’s why they still are the way that they are. But I do save their asses from failing a whole hell of a lot.” Kyle explains, watching Kenny transfer answers over in his curvy chicken scratch.

“You’re nice.” Craig says.

The statement is simple and hardly implies anything—so why does it make Kyle’s stomach churn? He plays it off with a shrug of his shoulders. “That’s a strong word.”

“Not really.” The darkhaired man assures him, the toothless grin he wears directly attributing to the bubbles in his stomach before he drifts away to answers the final few questions.

Kyle is easily able to disregard the bickering that starts up between his two friends as he inwardly tries desperately to decide when Craig Tucker began to make him feel this way. Did this all begin today, or was it somehow born from his ceaseless mission to fluster and frustrate Kyle each time they interacted briefly in class? The irritation toward not having a clear answer only worsens the situation for him.

Kenny and Cartman are only half-way through copying the packet when Craig waltzes back up to Kyle, holding his less full version of the assignment. He sighs, “I’ll rewrite it when Dumb and Dumber are done.”

Kyle nods in agreement, exhaling his own deep breath, “Might be standing here forever, then.”

“Fine with me.” Craig replies, leaning against the same wall Kyle’s back is pressed to.

Kyle raises an eyebrow, inwardly lecturing his heart for acting completely out of pocket. “Really? You don’t mind that I happen to be next to you?”

“Nah,” Craig assures, flicking his eyes down to meet his stare. It felt like the millionth time that day, and with each glance, the weird, new feeling gets worse. “You’ve been significantly less insufferable than usual today.”

“Oh, thanks.” Kyle chuckles with an eyeroll, folding his arms over his chest.

Craig lets the small bout of laughter fade out before continuing. “Honestly, though, I sort of had a good time with you today… We should do it again.”

Their stares linger longer than they had all day. Kyle replies before biting down on his lower lip, “Yeah, we should.”

He does not miss the way Craig’s hazels flutter to his mouth, then quickly back up. He feels a magnetic pulse draw him closer to the taller boy, and he lets their shoulders bump before he forces his gaze away. He is equally disappointed and relieved when Kenny comes wandering up to them with a knowing smirk across his lips. “Here ya go, lovebirds. Thanks.”

“Fuck off, Kenny.” Two voices retort in unison. They exchange surprised, amused glances.

Kenny widens his eyes, “Right, fuck off, Kenny, so we can have some more eye sex.”

With that, the blond salutes, and lumbers forward toward Cartman, leaning on his toes to wrap an arm around the larger boy’s shoulders. Kyle narrows his eyes at the back of Kenny’s curly head, very aware of his campaign for more alone time between Craig and himself.

“So, we’re done, right?” Craig questions.

Kyle nods, “Yeah, we got everything covered.”

“Wow, it turns out there was plenty of time to do the VR thing. Who would’ve guessed.” Craig drones.

Kyle squints up at him as they begin tracing toward the entrance of the museum where they were instructed to convene at 1P.M.—though it is merely 12:30. “Excuse the fuck out of me for wanting to make sure we completed the assignment. We can’t all be as blasé about grades as you are.”

Craig chuckles. “How bad do you think I’m doing, Red?”

“If you were dealing with my mom’s standards, you’re _failing_.” Kyle shrugs.

“Well just for your overachieving ass, I put in effort today. Now, I’m ready to reward myself with SNL and pizza in a half hour.” Craig states.

Kyle eyes the VR Transporter exhibit on their way past. He can’t help but grin at the memory of Craig’s arm pressed up against his. The stupid feeling returning at the mere thought of it confirms that the stupid feelings are a stupid crush. Especially when he thinks back to how he once recently noticed that he thinks that Craig looks nice in the color yellow.

“Fuck me.” He mutters to himself.

The reach the entrance of the museum where Mrs. Larson instructs them to have a seat until the rest of the groups have finished. They claim a metal bench off to the side, situated between two vast columns.

Kyle watches out of the corner of his eye as Craig flips out his Android and wiggles his thumb across the pattern password. He looks up to catch Kyle staring before he is quick enough to look away. He asks, “You want to watch with me?”

Kyle whips his head around to face him. “Watch what?”

“SNL,” Craig states, untangling his earbuds while waiting for YouTube to load. “Do you like it?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Kyle accepts the right earbud with a grin.

Craig places the other in his opposite ear and clicks in the most recent clips from over the weekend. By the end of them, Kyle is leaning directly against him for a better view, head spinning, but feeling a stronger level of comfortability from laughing together.

“What I tell ya,” Kenny’s voice brings Kyle back to reality. He glances up to find him locking arms with Stan, who is smirking at him the same as his partner. “Lovebirds.”

Craig is quick with the flip off, sharing a quick smile with Kyle before they separate to their respective friend groups. For more than one reason, Kyle wishes he could join Craig and those guys for the day.

“Dude… Are you guys going to be a thing?” Stan asks, appearing almost concerned.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?!” Kyle fires back, then fixes his annoyance at the shit-eating grin across Kenny’s freckled face. “Quit telling people we’re a thing before I kick your ass.”

“You’ll have to get through my big, strong quarterback first.” Kenny challenges, sidestepping behind Stan for effect.

“Can you homos go ten minutes without reminding everyone how gay you are? It’s seriously immature.” Cartman bemoans.

“All three of you need to stop talking to me right now.” Kyle demands, facing forward. He is well aware that Stan and Kenny probably know it was just to disguise the relentless smile across his face, but he doesn’t care.

The rest of the fieldtrip consists of making eyes at Craig from across the museum cafeteria and wishing their thighs could be pressed together on the bus ride home as they were on the bench.

Later that night, and somewhere in between his second and third hour playing _Roller coaster Tycoon_ , Kyle’s phone vibrates beneath his thigh. He is annoyingly excited to see an Instagram notification from _spacekid1215._

He swipes open their direct messages and grins when he sees an event post from the Denver Museum of Nature and Science set for next week, and Craig’s message beneath, _You and me?_

In the comfort of his own bedroom, the redhead beams enthusiastically the invitation. He pounds out a simple, _Sounds good._

_Craig: You driving? Since I carried the weight of the assignment today._

_Kyle B: Fuck off, Tucker. You asked, so you’re driving._

_Craig: Fine. But I’m not cleaning my car._

__

“Are you seriously not going to take it off?”

Kyle narrows his glare at his partner, proudly readjusting the ball cap to spite him. “I told you, my hair has a mind of its own, and today, it said _no_.”

Craig whines and drops his head onto his shoulder as they stand in a ticker cue for South Park’s planetarium. “But it’s our anniversary. You’re supposed to look all sharp for me.”

Kyle scoffs and twists away from him. “Fuck you, I look fine. Better, actually, because like I said—it’s a fucking disaster.”

“I’m messing with you, Red,” Craig assures with an amused smirk. “Obviously you look perfect.”

“I know.” Kyle quips, reaching over to find the other man’s hand and lace their fingers together.

Craig often cannot believe his luck. Three years with his high school sweetheart and it all still feels new—and he is still willing to go to geeky places like the planetarium to celebrate their anniversaries. Since their relationship was sparked by a class trip to a museum, visiting places of the like had become their thing. Soon enough they had visited everyone within a reasonable vicinity and began to branch out even more during summer breaks and weekends.

Despite the plethora of awesome, enriching places they have visited, Craig’s favorite remains the planetarium. Kyle remans less versed in terms of constellations and other celestial objects than Craig and it is his one opportunity to impress his exceptionally intelligent boyfriend with knowledge. It also allowed him to go back and forth between the first and second most beautiful things he has ever seen; the vast, star-ridden night sky being second, and Kyle Broflovski a completely uncontested first.

The couple purchase tickets and stride inside the space hand-in-hand to find their seats. Once settled, Kyle sends his partner a warm smile. “I love you.”

Craig grins brightly and leans over to press a long, passionate kiss to Kyle’s lips. Butterflies invade his stomach as per usual, even as he draws away to peck his boyfriend’s soft cheek. “I love you.”

Soon enough the display begins, and Craig is caught between taking in the glorious, telescoped sky magnified before him, or all the stars reflecting in Kyle’s gorgeous, deep brown eyes. For the majority of the night, it is the latter.


End file.
